


I Love How You Love Me (But Hate the Way I'm Supposed to Love You Back)

by echoes_of_another_life



Series: Episode Fic [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst and Porn, Bottom Dean, Episode Related, Episode: s09e14 Captives, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Established Relationship, M/M, Male Slash, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Episode: s09e14 Captives, Sharing a Bed, Slash, Top Sam, Wall Sex, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 07:06:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2015667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoes_of_another_life/pseuds/echoes_of_another_life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hate me all you want in the morning, but please just give me this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Love How You Love Me (But Hate the Way I'm Supposed to Love You Back)

**Author's Note:**

> Set immediately after episode 9.14 (Captives)

_“Before I go, will you guys promise me something?” Kevin asked. “Can you two get over it?”_

Dean watched the door close behind Kevin, and on the promise both he and Sam had made, to stop the drama, and the fighting. 

“Well that was,” Dean began, turning to see that Sam was already halfway out the door, his promise forgotten.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean said as Sam turned the corner and out of sight. He sighed; half tempted to go after Sam but not willing to open himself up to another cutting truth from his brother. The fact that Sam maintained that he wouldn’t save Dean still cut like a knife, and Dean wasn’t sure he could take another blow, not right now. Instead, he bypassed Sam’s room and turned the handle on his bedroom door, pressed play on his iPod and picked up his earphones. 

It wasn’t so much what Sam had said that hurt Dean, it was the withdrawal of Sam’s affection, if you could call it that. The unwillingness to be brothers and all that that entailed, which for Sam and Dean was more than familial love, or affection. It was blood, trust, loyalty. It was having each other’s back no matter what, or who. It was standing tall, together, not pushing the other away as Sam was doing now. 

But most of all it was touch. Dean had gotten used to touching others, those he thought of as family, but rarely accepted being touched unless it was a one-night stand, safe in the knowledge that by morning, he’d be gone, but since Lisa, even those moments were becoming few and far between.

With Sam, it was different. With Sam, he could let down his guard, pass himself over into familiar, trusting hands. Allow himself the luxury of emotion and still look himself in the mirror the next morning because it was Sam; and whatever Dean did during the long night spent in his brother’s arms, whatever he said, was held safe and secure. 

Touch was what he missed the most. Large hands, larger than his own cradling him close, holding him as he came apart beneath Sam’s body, whispered words of encouragement and care. 

It wasn’t just the sex, even though it was damn good, better than. It was the closeness, the look on Sam’s face as he entered Dean, the look of wonder and awe, and what, love?

Dean gritted his teeth, the music forgotten as he fought the need to be touched, to be held, by the one person who mattered most. 

Sam. 

He threw aside his headphones, uncaring as they hit the opposite wall, grabbed for the door and flung it open and ate up the short distance to Sam’s room in four angry strides. Dean took a deep breath, opened Sam’s bedroom door and stepped inside. Sam was standing by the bookshelf, bare-chested and equally angry at the interruption.

“Dean what the hell?” Sam said, shoulders squared as his fingers fisted around the worn pages in his hand. 

Dean took a deep breath and stepped forward, reached for his brother, fingers carding through Sam’s hair and curling around the back of his head. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sam spat, taking a step back.

“Giving you one more reason to hate me,” Dean said as he followed Sam, matched him step for step. “Hate me all you want in the morning, but please, just give me this,” Dean pleaded and lowered his mouth to his brothers. He stroked his tongue along lips that for a moment were still and unresponsive … just for a moment before they parted.

The kiss was brutal. No warmth or softness of touch, just a clash of teeth and tongues as Dean pushed into Sam’s mouth. “Please,” Dean begged. “Please, Sam.”

Dean waited, breath held for Sam to pull back, to push him away, hell to come up swinging, but Sam did neither. Instead, he grabbed Dean’s shirt and held on, fingers fisted around worn cotton, biting into skin as he kissed Dean back, hard, briefly before he eased away, trailed his mouth across the rough, unshaven skin of Dean’s cheek, and down his throat. 

“Is this what you want?” Sam asked as he tugged on Dean’s short-cropped hair, in an attempt to gain better access, lower still until Sam felt the pulse in Dean’s throat hammer wildly beneath the rasp of his tongue, heard Dean groan, low and throaty. “This?” Sam continued. He brushed his hand against the bulge in Dean’s jeans, stroked his already hard cock through the material, cupped his hand against Dean’s length, and squeezed. 

“Well is it?” Sam growled as he bit down hard against Dean’s jaw, lower to suck a bruise into the tender skin of his neck, his hand now still, unmoving. 

Dean bucked up into Sam’s hand, pleading with his body for his brother to continue, desperate for contact; desperate for Sam. He clutched at Sam’s shoulders to stop himself swaying on his feet. The feel of Sam’s mouth against his throat was already forcing low, throaty moans to escape Dean’s parted lips; blood rushing to the surface, purpling his skin under the harsh demands of Sam’s teeth. He bucked up desperate, and wanting, until Sam slid his palms down Dean’s flank; scooped over his hips to squeeze and release his ass cheeks. 

“Tell me!” Sam demanded, and pulled Dean roughly against his own, hardening cock, kneaded his ass with the heels of his hands as he rocked their hips together.

“Yes,” Dean groaned. “Please, c’mon, do it. Touch me.”

“This doesn’t change anything,” Sam said, voice deep, heavy with lust and want, and close against Dean’s ear.

“Dean turned his head, his tongue invading, seeking Sam’s in an attempt to silence his words. He sucked and pulled on Sam’s tongue, bringing it into the warmth of his mouth and felt the vibration of Sam’s moan. Felt Sam’s hand slide back across his hip. His thumb brushing the skin just above the waistband of Dean’s jeans before Sam slid his hand past the barrier to stroke Dean’s cock. Dean wanted to beg, wanted to plead for forgiveness, but all he could do was cling to Sam’s mouth and moan as he thrust his hips forward in time with Sam’s hand. The thought that Sam was just as affected, voice hitched and breathing ragged, by Dean’s nearness gave little comfort. Dean didn’t want comfort. He wanted… faster, harder, more.

“Don’t care,” Dean gasped, the lie falling easy from his kiss-swollen lips, as he thrust upward into Sam’s hand, rutted his hips against the tight squeeze of Sam’s fingers, almost there, almost. 

Dean stilled as Sam slid his hand lower, squeezed hard around the base of his cock in an attempt to stop him coming, slid his hand lower still, stopped just before Dean’s hole and pressed up, causing Dean to cry out in frustration. 

“Not yet,” Sam warned. “You want this, then it’s my way, my rules,” Sam continued, his voice commanding, the words hissing past his lips. He grabbed a fistful of Dean’s shirt, buttons flying, and cotton tearing as he lifted, and shoved Dean, slammed him against the wall. Sam smiled, but it lacked the usual warmth, and this time when Dean told himself he didn’t care, he meant it, just as long as… “Oh, God,” Dean groaned as Sam yanked open Dean’s jeans and dropped to his knees, taking denim with him, freeing Dean’s cock and making a space for himself between his bowed thighs.

“Don’t move,” Sam breathed against Dean’s hip; took a moment to savour the salty tang of pre come that smeared on pale freckled skin, before he circled Dean with strong fingers, squeezing hard as he leaned in and dragged his tongue up Dean’s length, pushing up where ridge met shaft, stroking back down, all the way to Dean’s sac and then back up.

“Fucking do it, just suck me already.” Dean pleaded, sliding his fingers into the silky length of Sam’s hair and dragging him closer, holding him there while he tried to fuck his way into Sam’s mouth. 

“My rules,” Sam warned, as he worked his free hand up the back of Dean’s thigh, and felt short hair bristle against his palm, his breath hot, ragged as he scraped his teeth across Dean’s hip and felt Dean’s fight to hold still. “That’s it,” Sam praised, his tongue snaking forward to wet his lips, his eyes locked on Dean’s as he smiled, slow and easy. “Nice and still.” 

“Fuck,” Dean moaned, and dragged in a breath, held it and let it go, moaned louder, as he fought the urge to take what he wanted. He watched the way Sam watched him in turn, daring Dean to move. “See?” Sam said, his smile widening to show his dimples. “See how good you can be?” 

And shit if Dean didn’t almost come, right there and then, without a single touch, or movement from Sam, just his words, vibrating against Dean’s cock. Thick shallow bursts of air punctuated by sound. The urge to move almost unbearable and Dean waited, clear green eyes open and locked on his brother’s mouth. Watching as Sam wet his lips and slowly, slowly pressed his tongue to the underside of Dean’s cock, held it there as he maintained eye contact and then licked his way up Dean’s entire length. 

“Jesus, come on,” Dean said, fingers curling inward to make crescent-shaped welts against his palm. He wanted nothing more than to touch. To card his fingers in Sam’s hair, curl his hand around the base of Sam’s head and hold him there, bring him closer, but he daren’t move an inch, in case Sam stopped. Instead, he gritted his teeth, his fingernails digging deeper, and was rewarded when Sam stroked his tongue around the head of his cock, took him in, and worked his mouth along Dean’s length, right to the base; pulled back, then sucked his way back down with perfect rhythm.

Dean heard the thud, felt the flash of pain as his head connected with the wall behind him as he slammed backwards against the feel of Sam’s mouth, hot and wet, tightening around the head of his cock, and couldn’t hold back the moan as Sam pressed his tongue against the slit. 

“Yeah, just like that,” Dean grunted, the need to move overwhelming, as Sam curled his tongue around the head of Dean’s cock on every upstroke, relaxed his jaw, and took Dean deeper still, right to the point of… nothing, Sam stopped, pulled back. 

“Fuck!” Dean shouted, fist connecting with the wall, hips thrusting forward against empty air as Sam eased away completely and rose to his feet. 

“Not yet,” Sam said, voice steady, but Dean could see the strain on Sam’s face, heard the sharp intake of breath when he looked back at his brother. Dean’s head thrown back, fists clenched, and cock hard, and wet jutting out from the short thatch of hair around the base. He could see the evidence of Sam’s arousal in the hard length of his own cock, his jeans darkening where he leaked pre come against worn denim. 

“Turn around,” Sam said as he reached for the button on his jeans, dragging it free and easing down his zipper. 

Dean was torn, wanting nothing more than to do as Sam said, but wanting to see for himself just how affected Sam was. Wanted to see how hard his brother was. 

“I said turn around,” Sam repeated as he freed his own cock and took himself in hand, squeezed around the base and held still for an instant before fisting his length, once, twice and stepping forward, into Dean’s space. “Move,” Sam demanded. 

Dean felt hard cold plaster press against his cheek as he turned, felt Sam’s weight against his back, Sam’s cock pressed tight with his hole. 

“Gonna fuck you now,” Sam promised. His breath hot against Dean’s cheek, the words jarred, half plea, half warning. “You’re not gonna come until I tell you, understand?”

Dean swallowed, and nodded and felt Sam press closer, felt spit-slick fingers press into his hole and groaned; blunt fingernails biting into the back of his neck as Sam held him still with his free hand, pressed Dean hard up against the wall.

“Good,” Sam said and pressed in, first one and a second finger, and added a third as Dean groaned, opened up and took him in. 

“Not enough,” Dean grunted.

“What do you want?” Sam asked, his words clipped, needy as he pushed in deeper, crooked his fingers against Dean’s sweet spot, and pressed down causing Dean to buck up against him. 

“You!” Dean groaned. 

“I’m right here,” Sam murmured, and pushed back into his brother’s willing wet heat. He scraped his teeth across Dean’s jaw, up to his cheek to bite down against Dean’s earlobe. “Right here.”

“Please,” Dean begged.

“Please, what?” Sam breathed out against Dean’s ear causing Dean to shudder and clench tight around Sam’s fingers. 

“Fuck me, c’mon,” Dean moaned. “Please Sam.”

“This what you want?” Sam asked as he used his foot to nudge Dean’s feet wider apart. One strong hand pinning Dean in place, his knee wedged firmly between Dean’s spread thighs as he fisted his own cock and watched the pre come drip onto the sweet curve of Dean’s naked ass, and down between the shadowy cleft. 

“Yes,” Dean groaned. “So much, Sam.” Dean continued. “Please.”

And then Sam was right there, right where Dean needed him to be, but still he daren’t move, barely dared to breathe as Sam pushed in, all the way to the base and withdrew, ever so slowly, back out, only to thrust up hard and fast, and so fucking perfect.

“Not until I say,” Sam warned. 

“Just do it,” Dean begged. “C’mon, fuck me, Sam. You know you want it,” Dean continued and finally, finally pushed back as Sam thrust up. Almost daring Sam to stop, knowing he wouldn’t. It had gone too far past control, too near the point of no return and they both knew it. Dean could feel it in the hard, heavy press of his brother’s cock filling him. The wet, heated slide as Sam pulled out, and the harshness of his breath, hot on Dean’s shoulder betrayed the threat. He felt it in the caress at the back of his neck, no longer forcing Dean forward, but massaging, fingers working their way around Dean’s neck to cup his jaw, forcing him to turn his head slightly and look at his brother. 

Dean groaned the instant their eyes met, and he saw the flush that had spread across Sam’s face, the sweat that beaded Sam’s brow and dampened his hair. Want and need revealed in the heated look that blazed from his brother’s eyes, his mouth open, lips curled around a harsh intake of breath as Dean pushed back again to meet Sam’s thrust. 

“Jesus, not yet,” Sam said, more plea than demand, and thrust in again, slower this time, thighs pressing Dean flush with the wall as Sam rolled his hips forward, tight and close making Dean groan louder into the welcoming heat of each slow grind. To whine as Sam pulled back, all the way, then circled his hips, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he fought his own release, anger turning to desire as need flared and crackled between them. 

“Not… yet…” Sam breathed between hot, rapid bursts of puffed out air against Dean’s cheek. 

Dean swallowed, desperate to come, desperate for contact, for more and pushed back harder. Was rewarded when Sam released the hold on his neck, palm smoothing down between Dean’s shoulder blades, lower to curl around his hip. Almost there. Right where Dean needed Sam to be. 

“Fuck c’mon,” Dean urged, then cried out, surprised when Sam did as he asked and gripped Dean’s cock, pulled hard, twisting on each upstroke, and snapped his hips forward as Dean fucked his way deeper into his brother’s fist.

“Harder,” Dean begged, and almost sobbed with relief as Sam gripped him tighter, his thumb pressing down on the slit, rubbing in the moisture that leaked out before scraping his thumb down the ridge that ran the underside of Dean’s cock, all the way to the base. Dean slammed forward; his hands outstretched against the wall for purchase as Sam repeated the motion, again, and again, slamming into Dean on each upstroke, easing back as he worked Dean’s cock, gripped him tighter, fisted him harder and Dean circled a hand behind him to find purchase in the thick silky strands of his brother’s hair. 

“Gonna come,” Dean warned, almost waiting for permission, fighting the need to pulse thick and hard over Sam’s hand, gritting his teeth at the silence that followed. Almost there, almost. “Sam?” Dean begged. His inner muscles clenching and releasing as the slow burn began to build, and build…

“Hold it… just another minute,” Sam hissed. 

Dean heard the unsteadiness in Sam’s voice, felt the full body shudder as Sam rutted his hips, shorter, faster strokes, before he withdrew completely and then slammed back in, hard. Once, twice and then again. No more demands, just sharp intakes of breath followed by a deep, guttural grunts as Sam withdrew, and slammed back in.

Dean bit down on his bottom lip, tasted the sharp tang of iron as he fought to hold on. His cock ached; balls pulled tight to his body as the burn began to catch fire, pooling from his stomach and settling in his groin, the want, and the need, unbearable. “Sammy?” Dean shouted, harsh, urgent.

“Now,” Sam cried out, the word muffled against the back of Dean’s neck, more vibration than sound, but Dean picked up the intent as Sam’s free hand circled Dean’s waist, lifting his brother against him as he thrust forward aggressively, snapped his hips forward, and came, long and hard. 

“Christ,” Dean hissed, legs shaking, as he fought to remain upright, grateful when Sam held him tighter, brought him closer as the fiery heat of his own release overtook everything. His ability to stand, to think, aware of nothing but pleasure and relief, and Sam’s whispered words of praise. He took a moment, breathed raggedly, as Sam shifted his weight and slowly eased out of Dean. Pulled away, leaving Dean feeling empty, and suddenly bereft.

“Can we just…” Dean began. He heard the rustle of clothes, caught sight of Sam’s jeans as he threw them aside, and heard the dip of the mattress as Sam eased himself down onto the bed, naked save for the thin covering of the sheet. Dean waited, lost amid the silence. “Yeah, okay.” Dean nodded, and eyed the door as he made to tuck himself back into his come-soaked jeans, swallowed when Sam shook his head, and pulled back the sheet. 

“This doesn’t change anything,” Sam repeated, the words of earlier sounding slightly less biting as the tremor in Sam’s voice reached Dean’s heart. 

Dean nodded once more. The movement lost among a tangle of plaid and cotton as he pulled his torn shirt over his head, climbed out of his jeans, and padded barefoot over to the bed. He hesitated as Sam turned over, his back to Dean and considered, briefly whether it would be better to just leave. 

“I’m still pissed, but we leave it at the bedroom door,” Sam said, his back still to Dean, but his shoulders relaxed, and voice even, slightly edged with sleep. Dean eyed the door once more, thought back to his cold bed, and the broken headphones, and climbed in beside his brother. He turned over, back to back and pulled the sheet over them both.

It wasn’t until he felt the mattress dip, felt Sam turn and shift and throw an arm over his hip to pull him in that Dean was able to breathe.


End file.
